


Secret Santa Drabbles

by Banbury



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banbury/pseuds/Banbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas drabbles for TS_Secret_Santa</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Santa Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> I've written these drabbles back in December 2007, one of my first fics for 'The Sentinel' fandom.  
> Huge thanks for my betas - Jane Davitt and ainm, who'd helped me very much in first attempts in writing in English.  
> Disclaimers: Nobody is mine, they're just so nice characters that I can't resist the temptation to play with them from time to time.

**Clue-ookies**

Pre-slash  
Word count: 417  
Beta: ainm

Jim was drifting from the depth of his sleep towards rich exotic scent that was filling air of the loft. He smiled, smelling lush fir odour entwined with that scent and remembered with pleasure their yesterday’s hunt for the perfect Christmas tree that now proudly stood in the corner of the room. The music heard from below – something mozartian with a lot of string instruments - sounded pinescented like frosty patterns on the glass. He looked up to high crisp blue midwinter skies. That was it – the day of Christmas Eve. The perfect Sunday.  
Jim stretched. It was one of that rare lazy Sunday mornings when even the idea of working out could be snowed by very childlike mood of idleness. He once more closed his eyes and let himself Hear. Under the waves of music, he heard Blair’s quiet hum, somewhat strange slaps on the table, then there were steps on the street, car horns, laughter and above all that soft, almost fur sound of falling snowflakes.  
Jim sighed and turned to his side. Something crumbled under his chick. He looked down – on the pillow lay a half-crumbed cookie, a perfectly baked ginger cookie in the shape of smile. Jim smiled in return and glanced downwards to find Blair hovering over the table.  
He got up, put on his robe and moved towards the stairs only to find another cookie under his foot on the first step. This one was bigger and lips of the smile were slightly parted as if waiting for kiss. Jim shook his head, picked it up and resumed movement downstairs.  
The next cookie laid on the last step. It was as large as a palm and represented roughly modeled human figures – one small and the other one bigger with arms around each other. Jim grinned, picked that one also up and looked around.  
One more cookie was situated precisely between the stairs and the kitchen island. It was as big as the previous but these figurines stayed embracing and almost kissing. Jim briefly glanced towards Blair and almost immediately spotted the last cookie hanging on the pillar. Actually, there were two cookies – two silhouettes with almost portrait likeness - hung as close as if were really kissing.  
Jim took his time surveyed all cookies one more time and turned to Blair. Younger man stood very still, twisted one more smile shaped cookie in his hands. Jim looked him over seriously and suddenly smiled, wide and fearless.  
“Merry Christmas, smart cookie”.

 **On the back of the North Wind**

Word count: 392  
Beta: ainm

He laid on his back in the hammock in the middle of nowhere. Soft breeze brushed his bare chest. He stared at the sky wondering whether these stars are the same as at home, he was not very good at astronomy. Something small and wet dropped on his cheek – he touched it. Leaflet.  
He longed to feel snow. Never ever thought that he will miss it and yet here he was – in the middle… He stopped this line of thought; there was no good in yearning for something unbelievable.  
He closed his eyes and tried to disconnect with this world. Firstly, he ceased to hear the wind, fluttered leaves, the river far away. Then he stopped to pay attention to people’s breathing, movements in their sleep. Then he felt the other wind on his skin, cold, wet, oceanic fresh – wind from afar, from Home. The wind brought with it muffled sounds – dings, music spikes, distant voices. It seemed to him that he even could hear crunch of snow under somebody’s feet.  
Several voices rose up in the song then subsided and then, only then he heard this voice – young, clear, rich… starlit – like that somebody inhaled all stars from above and they were twinkling in every word.  
The Voice read a poem. He didn’t know it and caught only last stanza:

*The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.*

Suddenly he felt it – snowflakes on his lashes, as unbelievable as a hope and yet as real as The Voice. That Voice promised to find him he just knew it. And he, in response, promised to go ahead, to keep going.  
He slept and saw in his sleep North Star wrapped itself warm in North Wind, The Voice rocked to sleep in the hammock of Milky Way and promises were shining like beacon ahead.

 

 **Through the Lens - Darkly**

J/B slash  
Word count: 489  
Warnings (I don’t know – spying?)  
Beta: Jane Davitt

He hates when people fuck each other behind the closed curtains. It’s so unfair – how can he fulfill his task if nothing is in sight. But these two… Oh, - how sweet of them to have that big bed in plain view. Nice.  
He changes to a telephoto lens and begins to fish for new film in the bag pocket.  
Yes-s-s. Just move your legs farther apart, a bit more… Yes-s-s. What a nice view – that sturdy ass and tender flesh of balls beneath… These new lenses are really something; he can even see the wrinkles on the man’s heels.  
Oh, that’s wonderful. His cameras click quietly. Entwined legs, parted lips under the curtain of long auburn hair, pierced nipple – long, elegant fingers gently tug at the silvery ring…  
He unthinkingly strokes the Pentax. It was his first serious camera; it’s like a lucky penny to make sure his job will be fulfilled successfully. Others he owns are digital. He makes enough on these compromising photos to be able to keep up on all the technical novelties.  
He smirks as he watches the quilt covered entangled limbs. Hey, guys, you’ll have a pretty surprise on your pretty asses tomorrow.  
He waits for the pictures to appear on the monitor screen so that he can choose the best. He always makes it a condition of his employment that he can use the most picturesque and anonymous shots for his own purposes – in his public life he is quite the well-known erotic photographer.  
Click… click… click…  
That’s not bad, that one with a strained cock sticking up through a waterfall of curls. And this one – fingers caressing balls. He marks some more and goes to make coffee. Sometimes – actually most of the time – this work is just boring – cocks, balls, tongues don’t vary that much. He’s ready to call it a night when he finds himself looking into aware eyes.  
He gets a creepy feeling. These eyes in the picture are too alive and cognizant for him to just brush the feeling aside. Then he finds himself staring into two sets of eyes. He couldn’t even say just that these people suspect something. He knows without doubt that they knew and were even able to see him no matter how strange it may sound.  
He begins to look through the pictures again. There are some similar shots. He goes through his files and reads the information on the subjects. Cops. Fuck. That sucks. It’s a pity he didn’t pay more attention. “Became careless, my… fuck”.  
He scans the pictures again. Not that he regrets his agreement, just… it’s a pity to watch their tenderness, their care for each other, even on the photos, and know… Once again he finds himself staring at the picture – entwined fingers, two hands clutching at the railings under the wreath of holly. What the hell; it’s Christmas time…  
He presses _delete_.

 **Wow!**

Words count: 319  
Warnings slash  
Beta: Jane Davitt

Phil Davis: How much is "wow"?  
Bob Wallace: It's right in between, uh, "ouch" and "boing".  
Phil Davis: Wow!  
(from the “White Christmas”)

“Morning, sleepy head,” Jim began to lick Blair’s nipple. Blair squirmed and tried to move the talented tongue lower. Jim chuckled at him, kissed him on the lips, and gave a satisfied sigh.  
“Thank you, love.”  
Blair mumbled something and suddenly was wide-awake.  
“Do you like it?”  
“I love you.”  
“No, I mean your present. Do you like it?”  
“You are always my favourite and treasured present.”  
“Ji-im, Jim, Jim, Jim, I mean *my* present. Do you like it, man?”  
“You… what present?”  
“I put it under your pillow. Come on, take a look.”  
Jim began to rummage under his pillow, then bent and tried to look under the bed.  
“Gimme a hint here, honey. What am I looking for?”  
“Present. Watch my lips, man – p-r-e-s-e-n-t. You aren’t supposed to know what it is before you find it”.  
“But how can I find it if I don’t know what it is?”  
“You’re a pain in the neck, you know that? Try to imagine something really, mmm, really nice, okay?”  
Jim suddenly launched himself onto Blair and began to lick his half-hard cock.  
“This is - mmm - nice”.  
“No, silly, I mean a *real* present.” Blair laughed boisterously, jumped out of the bed and began to shake out the quilt. “It just couldn’t have gotten lost. No way, man.” He tried to strip off the bed sheet but Jim caught his hands.  
“Sweetheart, try to look under the bed from your side. I’m sure it’s there…” Blair dove under the bed, jumped up again, and carefully examined the floor around. “Love…” Blair heard Jim’s uncertain tone and looked over his shoulder at his lover.  
“Jim..?”  
“What is’ it, love?” Jim stared at Blair’s rear.  
Blair slowly turned his back towards the mirror. Stuck in the center of his left cheek was a golden sheriff’s star.  
“Oh, here it is! It’s your present!”  
“You know, I just love it!”

 

 **The green of perfection**

Word count: 158  
Warnings: none  
Beta: Jane Davitt

“This is what?” Jim looked down at the intricately decorated Christmas tree standing on the coffee table and then back at Blair. The tree was just over two foot high.  
“This is the perfect Christmas tree. Don’t you think so, man? It’s not so big that you have to maneuver around it every time you walk across the room. And it’s not so small no one will notice it. It’s just perfect.”  
“But… but… one, two, three, four,” he glanced around, “five of them? How many more?”  
“Not many, just seven, to be sure not even a tiny part of the loft will be left out of the festive mood. Don’t you think it’s lovely?”  
“You mean you brought a whole fucking forest in here?”  
“Hey, man, you’ll love it when you get used to it.”  
“I bet…” muttered Jim under his breath, desperately trying to hide his grin, “I bet I will, imp.”

 

 **Make—believe**

Words count: 395  
Warnings none  
Beta: Jane Davitt

Looney lay on the cot and stared at the dirty ceiling. It was his third detention this year and it would be the last, as it was Christmas and it wasn’t likely the cops would work on his case until the new year.  
“Who detained you?” Looney was taken aback by the sudden question and turned towards his cellmate – a huge gloomy redneck with little black eyes whose gaze was almost lost in the depth of his meaty cheeks.  
“Um, this little guy… the new one…” Looney knew he’d seen him before, but always at the back of the crime scenes and he didn’t know him that well.  
“Huh, Sandburg then. He’s good, too.”  
“Go-o-od,” Looney cursed under his breath, “Just you wait. I’ll show him *good* when I’m outta here.”  
“Don’t even try.” The man sighed and turned to his side.  
“Why not? It’s not like he’s bulletproof, after all.”  
“ You don’t know what you are saying,” the other guy muttered. He turned to face Looney, “You think nobody tried it before? You have to ask on the street – even terrorists tried to blow them up. It just never worked. They were actually killed a couple of times.” He dropped his voice, as if he were afraid he would be overheard. “I saw with my own eyes, like I see you now. Ellison taking three bullets in his chest… do you hear me?”  
“Hey, dude, stop yodeling in a canyon, nobody could live after three bullets in the chest.”  
“You just hear me out, lad. I saw him hit the ground. Paramedics took him to the ER but somebody said that he wouldn’t be long for this world, he’d been hit too hard this time. And the next day I saw him on my interrogation. Sure, he was bandaged like a mummy but he sat there with this Sandburg guy and made a meal out of me.”  
Looney smirked suspiciously. “You trying to tell me they’re supermen?”  
“Don’t know, don’t know, don’t even want to guess,” the man mumbled turning away from Looney.  
“Ha-ha, woodoo, shmoodoo, yadda-youddou.” Looney cursed and wrapped himself up in his thin quilt thinking of Christmas ham and apple pie with cream.  
The other guy sighed and said clearly and out loud, “May be there are just too many people around who believe in them. That’s all.”


End file.
